


I Take Into Me

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: The Craft (1996)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bonnie confesses something. Sarah listens and reacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Take Into Me

**Author's Note:**

> Fic contains references to canonical attempted suicide.
> 
> Characters are above the age of consent, but they're highschool seniors.
> 
> Written for Porn Battle XI, using the prompt "scars".

The confession comes out so softly that it takes Sarah more than a second to realize that it means more than the sum of its words. It isn’t a throwaway anecdote or something Bonnie had just blurted out to fill the empty air in the room, but something tender and precious and real.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Sarah says, eventually.

“Yeah, right,” Bonnie says, voice partially muffled by her shield of oversized clothing. “I know what it means, I know what people say.”

“But it’s the choice that really counts.” Sarah moves closer, wanting to offer comfort but mindful to back off if Bonnie shrinks away. Bonnie doesn’t. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done it or not. What matters is that it’s you who’s decided that for yourself, and no one else.”

“But that’s the thing,” Bonnie says, quiet and shameful. “I do want it. It’s just that I haven’t…”

“It’s okay,” Sarah says, saving her friend from saying the words out loud. She tucks herself against Bonnie’s side, sliding an arm around her shoulder. “Really, it is. God, the things I can tell you... My first time was with this guy name Jeff, he wasn’t even my boyfriend, but that didn’t matter. It was before...”

Sarah starts at unexpected the touch of fingers to her wrist. Looking down, she sees Bonnie’s pale fingers curl experimentally around her hand, curious but cautious as they move up to her wrist.

“Before,” Bonnie says, trailing one finger daringly to the start of the scar, the one that’d been done ‘the right way’.

“Yeah,” Sarah replies, though she’s not really sure why she’s whispering. A careless conversation between friends is now as delicate at Bonnie’s unexpected confession, the tentative stroke of skin against skin far more intimate than it has any right to be. Sarah tries to remember the last time she let anyone see her scars; tries not think about the situations where Bonnie lets people see hers. “It wasn’t very good.”

Bonnie doesn’t ask whether she’s referring to the boy, or to the press of blade that’d made the scar she’s now touching. Instead, she says, “You always remember your first.”

That’s the thing about Bonnie; her quiet daring always takes people by surprise. With Nancy and Rochelle, what you see is what you get, but Bonnie is filled with bright, sharp things that are held back and muted by the body she thinks defines who she is. Sarah’s seen tantalizing glimpses of who she could be, and she realizes now just how much she wants to be part of the shedding and release of Bonnie’s true potential.

“Yes, you do,” Sarah says, not pulling away when Bonnie’s fingers cling harder to her wrist where the skin will always be a little numb. 

Bonnie is looking at her mouth, Sarah realizes. She initiates direct eye contact so rarely, more often than not skittering away to look at safer, neutral things as though not looking at someone will stop them from looking back. But, right now, Bonnie is looking at Sarah’s mouth, and it’s the trust of it, knowing that Sarah won’t make fun of her or use it against her, that has Sarah breathless.

“Hey,” Sarah says, tilting her head forward.

Bonnie sighs, eyes fluttering shut when their mouths meet. Sarah knows how to kiss, has had plenty of experience, but this is Bonnie’s call so she holds back, merely finding the slant for their lips to fit but not pushing further.

“You’re going to say it doesn’t count, right,” Bonnie says when she pulls back. She’s smiling in that accepting way that’s far too common on her face.

“Bonnie,” Sarah says slowly, “This is us, sisters of the circle. If this doesn’t count, nothing does.”

The smile brightens, becomes more genuine. Bonnie’s the one who starts the next kiss, stuttering a little when she gets the angle wrong but then arriving firm and warm against Sarah’s mouth. She is as Sarah knew she would be, unafraid but cautious, pushing just enough when she thinks she’s ready for more.

“Do you want to?” Sarah asks, and Bonnie nods, lets herself be lowered to the comforter. The lights in Bonnie’s room dim thanks to Sarah’s natural magic, but neither notice, not when there’s kissing to be done.

Hot, sweet kisses, one after another, nothing illicit or ugly about them at all. Bonnie laughs when Sarah nips her ear, and then bites her lip when Sarah slides her hand under Bonnie’s blouse.

“Don’t touch my...” Bonnie pauses, swallowing. “It’s not that I mind, but...”

“Sure, don’t worry,” Sarah says easily, careful to keep her strokes light and her fingers away from the boundaries of Bonnie’s back. Instead follows the contours of Bonnie’s breasts and gently flicks the nub of her nipples, feeling them harden and then stroking them until Bonnie starts to shift restlessly. 

Where Bonnie had been nervous, Sarah coaxes new sighs and soft moans, and then a startled gasp when her fingers change direction and slide down, past the barrier of her skirt and panties, into the warmth between her legs.

“Is this okay?” Sarah asks, rolling her fingers over the juncture where the folds meet. She watches Bonnie’s darkened eyes, and is once again taken by surprise when Bonnie lifts her hips, pressing that warmth against her fingers eagerly.

This moment is for pleasure, shared between them and nurtured. Sarah strokes her fingers against the slick warmth of Bonnie, pressing inward until she finds the place where she fits and is welcome. She rolls her fingers gently against the warm folds, rolling them inwards until Bonnie accepts them, clenching around them and coaxing pleasure from their presence.

“Oh,” Bonnie gasps, surprised. Pumping her fingers gently, Sarah wrings bliss from Bonnie’s body, mindful where to press in order to prolong it. She fits her lips to a nipple through the cloth of Bonnie’s blouse, suckling gently as Bonnie archs her back and comes on Sarah’s hand, trembling all over.

“There’s so much more,” Sarah says, pressing a kiss to the corner of Bonnie’s mouth, smiling when Bonnie turns her head to catch it. “We’re capable of so much more.”

“I can’t wait,” Bonnie pants softly, eyes already bright and hopeful.


End file.
